


Curious

by OhZee



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Jaskier | Dandelion, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gender or Sex Swap, Humor, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24077053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhZee/pseuds/OhZee
Summary: An accident with a drunk mage transforms Jaskier into a woman. Jaskier is fascinated with his new body. Geralt finds it offers him a new perspective on his longtime companion.This is just a bit a fluffy silliness, really.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 315





	Curious

“Are you fondling yourself?” Geralt asked incredulously.

Jaskier flushed and guiltily brought her face out of the cloak she was covered in. It settled back over her newly feminine body, draping more normally over the breasts she’d clearly just been examining with her hands.

“Well you can hardly blame me,” she proclaimed. “I’ve never been a woman before! It’s a very… novel experience. And they’re very nice breasts!”

She seemed quite pleased by that, and Geralt could hardly disagree. He’d seen them. After the drunken mage had accidentally hit Jaskier with a rogue spell, Jaskier had ripped his shirt to pieces in agony during the transformation.

Geralt’s heart had been in his throat, watching Jaskier scream and writhe on the ground, clawing at himself as his body morphed and shifted. There had been nothing he could do. He’d threatened the mage at swordpoint, demanding he fix whatever he’d just done, willing to commit any atrocity to make Jaskier’s pain stop. But the mage had stammered horrified apologies, stutteringly explaining that Jaskier would come to no harm, that the transformation was painful but reversible. 

His words had proven true enough as Jaskier’s cries began to fade into breathless sobs, body wracked by residual spasms, but the bard had been whole and conscious.

He’d also become perfectly female.

Geralt had quickly gone to his-- _her_ side, helping her sit up as she got ahold of herself and began to take stock of what had happened.

She was smaller, her hair long and her shirt in tatters, revealing breasts that were indeed pert and shapely. Her trousers were gaping at the waist but uncomfortably tight around her hips, and her boots nearly dragged right off her feet as she shifted her legs beneath her.

Geralt hadn’t hesitated to throw his cloak around her to protect her modesty, whether or not Jaskier would ever actually consider developing some.

The mage had offered to reverse the spell then and there, but Jaskier had shuddered, her fingers digging into Geralt’s arm, obviously unwilling to go through such an ordeal again so quickly. Geralt had snarled at the drunkard and shielded Jaskier bodily. Even if Jaskier had been willing to endure it, Geralt wasn’t willing to trust a mage so clearly off his senses with Jaskier’s wellbeing.

But the mage’s bumbling but sincere apologies won a strained smile from Jaskier, and the bard had forgiven the idiot for his mishap, reassuring him that being female for a while wasn’t such a terrible burden, and that the mage really ought to go home and sleep it off. Geralt had still rather wanted to geld the man, but had gritted his teeth and silently conceded to Jaskier’s good graces.

After that, he hadn’t wasted any time lifting Jaskier onto Roach and getting them out of there. She’d sputtered a little about the manhandling, but settled quickly. She was still shaking and couldn’t walk in her oversized boots, which Geralt had slipped off her feet and stowed in a saddle bag.

Now they were camped out in a clearing, watered and fed, and Jaskier was looking much better. She was feeling better too, if her curiosity about her new body had finally taken precedence.

“What do I look like, by the way?” she asked suddenly, fingers prodding at her cheeks. “I wish we had a mirror.”

Geralt took a moment to consider the question.

“You still look like yourself. I’d be able to recognize you even if I hadn’t seen you transform. Your features are the same, only… softer. Your jaw is smaller and rounder. Your lips are bigger, not as thin as they were. Your eyes are the same.”

It wasn’t poetry, but it was descriptive enough. Jaskier seemed to think so too, for she seemed encouraged and nodded.

“That’s good. I don’t think I’d like looking completely different. I’m shorter, aren’t I? I feel shorter. Felt a little off-balance getting off of Roach and I keep misjudging distances with my arms. That’ll take some getting used to.”

Jaskier was starting to chatter again, a good sign that left Geralt feeling relieved.

“Yes. Your center of gravity is in your hips now, not your shoulders.” Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for Jaskier to fully adjust, but it would take them some time to reach Temeria in any case. Geralt trusted that Triss would be able to reverse the spell, hopefully with the aid of some herbs that would leave Jaskier unconscious for the whole experience. Jaskier had seemed buoyed by that idea.

She was wiggling now, testing the hips Geralt had just mentioned. Though she was covered by the shapeless cloak, the movement stirred a familiar heat in Geralt, much to his surprise.

Geralt had never thought of Jaskier as a potential bed partner, and yet now the thought blindsided him without so much as a by-your-leave. He wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. It was true that he went in for women more often than men, but Jaskier had been attractive as a man too, even well-suited to Geralt’s personal tastes. Then again, Jaskier had been young when they met, far too young for Geralt to have considered bedding in good conscience, and once Jaskier was of a more suitable age they’d already fallen into the settled rhythms of their friendship, unspoken terms and boundaries long since established. Certain things had changed over the years, but Geralt had never revisited the implications of Jaskier’s clumsy flirting during their early days. Perhaps seeing Jaskier as a woman was simply offering him a fresh perspective on the matter.

It was something to think about.

“Sing something,” he said.

Jaskier looked surprised at the request, but began to sing the chorus to _Toss a Coin_. She only got through a few words before she cut off with a startled, “Oh..!” her hand going to her throat.

Geralt nodded. “Your voice is higher, if still somewhat low for a woman. You’ll need to adjust for that too.”

Frowning, Jaskier cleared her throat and tried again, an octave higher. It worked better that time, and Jaskier continued, making adjustments here and there and repeating until it sounded clear and melodious as usual.

“Well,” she said eventually, “At least I can still sing for our supper. Although I’m going to need new clothes first.”

Geralt had considered that already.

“We’ve enough coin for new shoes and a dress in the next town if we share a bed.”

It was frankly an improper suggestion under the circumstances, but he didn’t give much of a damn and neither did Jaskier, if the way she brightened and agreed to his proposed solution was any indication. They’d known each other for too long to suddenly be self-conscious of such things, no matter if one of them had just changed sexes.

Jaskier brought out her lute and practiced for a time, adjusting to her smaller hands and fingers, while Geralt tended the fire and allowed the music to lull him into a relaxed state.

At length, Jaskier stopped and shifted uncomfortably, then cleared her throat.

“I, uh. I have to relieve myself,” she announced, frowning down at her cloak-covered body.

“Oh,” Geralt replied, somewhat awkward. “Do you need help?”

Jaskier looked embarrassed about it but nodded, getting unsteadily to her feet. Geralt quickly rose to assist her.

The lack of shoes was a problem, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that Jaskier was still uncoordinated in her movements. She walked well enough in the grassy clearing without much support, but once they got to the trees she had to step gingerly on leaves and over branches so as not to cut her bare feet, wobbling a little before Geralt reached out to support her. But they made it without incident, and Geralt turned his back to give Jaskier some privacy once she was squatted beside a tree, one hand on its trunk.

For a minute, everything proceeded as normal. But then the time began to stretch on and Jaskier was suspiciously quiet. Geralt couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder when Jaskier made a soft little noise, then had to double-take when he realized what she was doing, even with her back turned.

“ _Jaskier_ ,” he said severely. Jaskier jumped guiltily. “Are you _fingering_ yourself?!”

“Sorry!” Jaskier squeaked. “Only it’s _right there_ and this is my first good look at it, and then I got curious how things are from the other side, so to speak…”

Curious, she said. With Geralt standing three feet from her. If there was ever a thought in Geralt’s mind that Jaskier might not be interested in having Geralt in her bed, it was expelled then and there. Not if she was both bold enough and comfortable enough to do these things in his presence.

Decided, he approached Jaskier as she began to rise, abashed, and threw her over his shoulder. She shrieked in surprise, wriggling in his grasp as he stalked back to camp. He ignored her shouted protests and smacked her firmly on the bottom, making her gasp and still. He could smell her sudden arousal. Though she couldn’t see it, he smirked in anticipation.

“If you’re so curious,” he purred, “allow me to help you out.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed, and made no further protest.

Some time later they lay together on Geralt’s bedroll, sweaty and sated in the warm night air.

“Gods above, Geralt,” Jaskier uttered huskily, catching her breath. Geralt’s lips twitched up contentedly, quite proud of himself. He’d made Jaskier come twice, after all.

“I should write an ode to your cock.”

“Don’t you dare,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier beamed at him mischievously and retorted, “I’ll only sing it to you. How about…

“ _Oh Geralt, he has such a cock,  
Built like a prize bully ox,  
He set me to howling,  
Gave me such a plowing,  
He launched away both of my socks!_”

For all that he tried, Geralt couldn’t hold his disapproving glare and snorted with mirth. Jaskier giggled victoriously and the next thing Geralt knew, they were dissolved into helpless laughter.

“So help me, if you _ever_ sing that in public…” But Geralt had a feeling his threat was not as effective as he would have liked, considering he was still smiling.

“No?” Jaskier giggled with false innocence. “Maybe something a bit more subtle?

“ _A quiet man, one might surmise,  
Possesses a tongue with few gifts,  
But that’s a conclusion so very unwise,  
For his talents can send me to fits--_”

In a desperate attempt to save his dignity, Geralt dug his fingers into Jaskier’s sides and began to tickle her without mercy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Catch me over on tumblr at [ohblessit](https://ohblessit.tumblr.com/).


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